If Bermuda is another world, many St David’s Islanders might argue that their parish is its hidden pearl. For Veronica “Ronnie” Chameau, born to Reginald Carl Smith, MBE and Nina Rose Claire Smith in 1943, childhood was nothing short of a wonderland.
Despite growing up in a home directly opposite the military hospital at the newly established Fort Bell (former name of the US Naval Air Station) — a bustling depot serving as a critical refuelling station and rest stop for hundreds of medical air evacuation flights carrying wounded US servicemen from the European battlefields to the United States — Mrs Chameau’s early years were marked by an extraordinary sense of peace and boundless freedom.
ROWING TO SCHOOL IN A PUNT
“The whole of St David’s took care of all the children,” she recalled fondly.
“Even when I was very small, I headed out the door each morning and the only rule was that I had to be home by 5pm for supper.
“We didn’t have many toys back then but there was no shortage of ways to have fun. I spent countless hours climbing trees and chatting with my brothers over makeshift tin-can telephone lines that we crafted by stringing taut cotton fishing line between the branches.”
A passionate fisherman from an early age, Mrs Chameau spent hours fishing for grunts in a pale blue box punt made for her by her brother.
She started attending school at Great Bay at the age of five and by the time she was seven she was rowing herself to school every day in that same punt. There were military vehicles on the base during this time, but initially no private vehicles and very few horses, so people either walked or travelled by sea.
At about this same time, Mrs Chameau was presented with a tricycle as a gift, but it was promptly commandeered by her brothers who immediately took it outside and started racing laps around the house with it. Although she can’t actually recall ever riding the trike herself, she does remember spending many hours sitting on a rock in the garden acting as a “pretend gas station” where the boys could stop to refuel.
“I remember being a bit afraid of horses,” she confided. “One Easter Sunday, when I was very young, I remember going to church in my Mary Jane shoes and a new straw hat. After the service I was standing outside the church next to Mr Richardson’s horse when it suddenly bent down and started eating my hat straight off the top of my head!
“My brothers and I were also rather afraid of the local Gombey troop and would run inside whenever we heard their approaching drums. Back then the Gombeys did not wear masks, they painted their faces with scary make-up and there was one in particular who had a habit of chasing children with his axe.”
CHRISTMAS SHOPPING WITH FIVE SHILLINGS
Despite living a relatively simple life, Christmas and Easter were celebrated by one and all in St David’s.
Each June, Mrs Chameau’s father and brother would hike to the top of Clark’s Hill above Cocoa Bay to scout out the ideal cedar to be used as the family Christmas tree that coming December. Having marked it with a piece of string, they would return just before Christmas to cut off the top section to decorate their home.
“My father secured it in a pail filled with rocks and water and my parents would decorate it after we went to sleep,” she recalled.
“On Christmas Eve my mother would always cook turkey and cassava while my father took us by ferry from Church Wharf below Chapel of Ease over to St George’s to hear carollers in the square and then we were each given five shillings to do our Christmas shopping.
“Five shillings went a lot further back then – I was able to get perfume for my mother and candy or a toy top for my brothers.”
FISHY TALES
“By the time I was about 11, I was heading out to fish each day with a frying pan, cornmeal, salt and pepper. I would meet up with my girlfriends and we would start a fire right on the edge of the rocks to cook up fish and boiled sweet potatoes which we ‘procured’ from my Uncle Joe’s vegetable garden,” she giggled.
Indeed, like most St David’s Islanders, a large portion of Mrs Chameau’s diet was composed of seafood that she and her family caught themselves. In addition to grunts, Mrs Chameau’s mother regularly cooking shark hash, mussels, curried conch, chub and suck rocks (chiton).
“You need a whole bucket of suck rocks to get a cup of flesh,” she conceded with a laugh, “and it takes a fair amount of skill to collect them – you have to knock them with a screwdriver at just the right angle to pop them off the rock or they anchor themselves down so firmly you would never get them off.”
Funnily enough, however, lobster was not popular among St David’s Islanders.
“I don’t remember anyone eating them – but we did catch them to use as bait for Rock Fish,” said Mrs Chameau.
Although they had an electric meter in the house – and Mrs Chameau can remember arguing with her brothers regarding whose turn it was to put a shilling in the box and pull the handle when the timer ran out – electricity was primarily used for lighting the house at night and they did not have a refrigerator. Instead, when they caught a lot of chub, her father would dry them in salt inside a screened box that he suspended from a tree.
Ronnie Chameau’s memories of childhood paint a vivid portrait of life in old St David’s – a community bound by simplicity, resourcefulness and a shared sense of belonging. Through her eyes, we see not just the history of a parish, but the enduring spirit of its people: a treasure as timeless and unique as the island itself.
